


oh, how my heart can fly

by readytobebolder



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkward Cullen, Coming Out, Crestwood Disaster, Dorian is a Good Friend, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Iron Bull's Sex Ed is A+, Krem Deserves Nice Things, Lavellan siblings, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readytobebolder/pseuds/readytobebolder
Summary: Krem wants to say that it started when they met. It’s how usually these things go, right? Boy meets girl, there’s a spark and after fifty pages or so they’re together—banging behind the stairs in the middle of an Orlesian ball where anyone could see them.Maybe he’s been reading too many of Varric’s books.(or five times Krem told Jolie a secret and one time Jolie told him one)





	1. she's like me

**Author's Note:**

> Cin made me do it (so blame xyr) and I do not regret a single word of this. Mainly because I haven't written in God knows how long.
> 
> English isn't my first language so feel free to correct me! Hope you enjoy!

Krem wants to say that it started when they met. It’s how usually these things go, right? Boy meets girl, there’s a spark and after fifty pages or so they’re together—banging behind the stairs in the middle of an Orlesian ball where anyone could see them.

Maybe he’s been reading too many of Varric’s books.

It doesn’t start when he meets her, of course not. Krem simply delivers Bull’s invitation and gets a nod and a curious look in return. She doesn’t stand out much, he has to say, unless you count the glowing mark on her hand, pulsing and green, sometimes cackling and making her wince. She’s actually fairly simple—dark hair, mocca eyes, dark skin with freckles dotted over her button nose. She’s not prettier than the bard at the Herald’s Rest or any of the women he’s slept with over the years, no, she’s just…

Krem, again, has read _way_ too many of Varric’s novels. Curse the dwarf and curse not having anything to do on this blasted, thunderous and rainy day.

Jolie is a Daelish elf. She’s loud and abrasive and the first time he saw her fight had his heart soaring and laughter spill from his lips. Storm Coast had been utter hell that day but watching a tiny elf jump on a Tevinter and ride his back with two long daggers had made something within him move. Maybe his heart, perhaps his lungs, very possibly something between his legs.

“Jolie—Lavellan,” she was quick to say, shaking Bull’s hand enthusiastically with a grin stretching her lips. “That was _fucking_ amazing.”

She is _Inquisitor_. Krem has trouble most of the time when it comes to that title. He’s seen her half-naked, throwing a bloody, muddy boot at his head as they cleaned in a river. He’s seen her swallow an entire night’s meal in point seven seconds. He’s seen her yawn and curl up in Dorian’s lap as midnight approached, begging for another chapter at the mage. She is young, stubborn, loud and… lovely. She is very, _very_ lovely.

They became friends pretty fast—mostly because she seeked him out. Krem hides in the tavern most of the times and Jolie also tries to find a place to hide from the war table and the crushing responsibilities that come from it. It reminds her of Haven, being around Cullen, Leliana and Josephine. She whispers so quietly, past midnight, when they sit on the edge of one of Skyhold’s walls. Krem doesn’t know what to say, swallows hard, offers her the rest of his drink which she downs fairly quickly.

“You lose someone at Haven?” he asks casually, watching her carefully. She winces, shakes her head, quickly mumbles that it isn’t about that.

“Someone did, Krem,” she whispers in a slurred Orlesian accent, the one she tries so hard to hide because it reminds her that at one point she knew nothing of the world outside of servitude and entitled nobles. “Someone did. Someone lost a mother, a father, a sibling. A child. A friend. I… I don’t want that to happen again.”

He nods. Swallows as she slowly lays her head on his shoulder. Her hair is long and braided and he’s drunk enough to find the courage to pull the strap of leather keeping it together, as messy as it has become during the night. Her dark locks fall clean and soft, slightly wavy due to the time it’s been plaited, and he finds himself running his fingers through it as she sighs and curls up into his side. He thinks he likes it—no, he knows he likes it. Has for quite some time. Used to watch Dorian do this and wonder how in the world he wasn’t in love with her.

“Jolie?” Dorian asks, incredulous, the next day as he and Krem speak in the gardens where not many are gathered. The fellow Tevinter throws his head back and laughs loudly, placing a hand on his chest, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. If Krem wasn’t so hungover, he’d be embarrassed about the reaction. But he _is_ hungover and he _isn’t_ embarrassed. Jolie must still be asleep so there’s no chance of her overhearing them. “Oh, my dearest friend, Jolie sure is a lovely girl but I’m afraid she lacks the… _things_ that I look for in a partner.”

Krem frowns until Dorian raises his eyebrows, wiggling them slightly. Then the charger understands it and feels the embarrassment wash over him like a bucket of scalding water, looking away from Dorian and to the chest pieces in front of him. Christ, is he bound to make a fool of himself to all the important figures in the Inquisition?

“So no, Cremissius,” Dorian chuckles when the warrior says nothing, rubbing the back of his neck and boring a hole onto the chess board. “Our favorite elf is quite avaible for a prince charming to sweep her off her feet.”

“I’m not—” he rushes to say, then realizes his mistake, flushing under Dorian’s smug look. “Maker take you, you horrid man.”

“Been wishing for the same,” Dorian chuckles, sipping on his wine. “You two are quite close, I’ve seen. Why is it so hard to think she could… return your feelings?” the mage asks, now a genuine question.

Krem doesn’t want to say that his lack of assets at times have cost him a partner or two. Or thirteen— _not_ that he’s counting. He’s better than that. Yet still, he thinks of Jolie and thinks of her sad smile when no one is watching. Her trembling hands that one time she fell asleep on the tavern and woke with a scream. Her lower lip trembling and tiny body quaking as she falls into the snow, hypothermic, crying wildly, trying to grasp Cassandra’s armor but her hands are shaking too hard.

Dorian must notice the mood changing and startles Krem as he speaks again, softly and knowingly. “Back in Tevinter,” he begins gently, swirling his wine around the glass. “I thought I’d live a life of misery—screaming on the inside, rotting while my exterior looked as fine as it is now.”

“You’re into men,” Krem speaks with a defensive stance, frowning at Dorian. “And I’m Tevinter, Dorian, I _know_. My—” he coughs, dislikes talking about it. “I’d a friend who was the same. She ran, married a woman in Ferelden, felt better about it. Truly, I don’t… I just… It’s not as simple as leaving Tevinter— _my_ thing is…” he struggles to find the right wording, sits back on his chair. “I’m not making any sense—”

“Do you know of Jolie’s sister?” Dorian asks him, blinking smugly—how can he look so smug while wearing a straight face? Fucking magisters.

“Yeah, I see her around sometimes, she helps Scout Harding,” Krem nods, biting his lip. “What does she have to do with—”

Dorian looks pointedly at him, waits for Krem to understand and, when Krem’s eyes widen, Dorian smirks, looks away, sips his wine like the conceited arse he is.

“No,” Krem whispers, stunned. “No, she’s— _what_?”

“You do not know because Cullen wasn’t panicking in the middle of _your_ library but—yes,” Dorian nods, shrugging. “Ae’wen is pretty much like you. So I doubt Jolie would care much about such things. And trust me when I say this—she will _fight_ anyone who says anything about you or her sister.”

Krem is still sitting, processing this information, when Dorian stands, pats his shoulder with a chuckle and leaves.

It isn’t until a few weeks later when Krem gets to meet Ae’wen—and only under _certain_ circumstances. Mainly, Cullen walking into Krem’s and Jolie’s secluded spot on one of the walls of Skyhold, both of them overlooking the people passing by, sharing a bottle of wine stolen from Dorian.

Cullen and Jolie—they get along. Mostly because Cullen is interested in Ae’wen and Jolie would kill anyone who came close to her little sister with the intention to harm or the potential to. The commander already looks nervous so Jolie adopts a defensive pose, leaning into Krem, who’s Jolie’s best friend so he _has_ to look menacing as well. Between the two of them, the commander’s nerves and the elven ear poking out of the door from Cullen’s tower, it’s a pretty hilarious situation—at least to Krem.

“Inquisitor,” he begins, chin up, eyes doubtful. “May we have a word?”

“Sure,” Jolie drawls, cocking an eyebrow, drinking straight from the bottle and passing it to Krem, who drinks to amuse her.

When the Herald of Andraste makes no move to actually stand and get herself and the commander to a secluded place, Cullen begins to sweat. There’s silence. Krem hides his snicker into the bottle, tries hard not to laugh as Jolie begins to smirk and Cullen starts to stutter.

“Well—you see, ah, Ae’wen—”

“What about her?” she presses, looking like the calm before the storm. Krem has to nudge her a little, now snickering softly.

“Play nice, Jo,” he whispers and Jolie simple nudges him back.

“Ae’wen is a wonderful woman,” the commander begins and Jolie relaxes at that, smiling softly. “She has… a lovely personality, a lovely laugh. We’ve been spending time—”

“You’re asking if you’ve permission to bone my sister, right?” Jolie smirks and Krem almost falls off the wall as he bursts into hysterical laughter, hearing Ae’wen’s gasp and the commander’s startled grunt, cheeks flushing. Jolie is laughing as well, unable to help it. “Wow, commander, how _crass_ and _unnoble_ of you.”

“Jolie!” Ae’wen is walking towards them, ears red, still in scouting gear as she passes Cullen and takes the bottle from her sister’s hand. “You’re _impossible_! Are you drunk?!”

“No but wow, I wish I was,” Jolie laughs, standing, and Krem watches with an amused smile as Cullen looks away, rubbing the side of his neck. “Like—yeah, sure. You’ve my blessing and all that shite. Just… don’t fuck up my sister. Or I’ll fuck _you_ up. Commander or not. Got it?” she looks serious, glaring at Cullen for a moment, and the man nods slowly, even _bows_.

Jolie makes it out to be all fun and games yet when the newly-made couple leaves, her smile drops and she sighs, closing her eyes.

“You alright?” Krem asks softly, rubbing her back—not to close to the lower part of it, always afraid he’s breaching a boundary.

“She’s my little sister,” she begins softly. “I’ve seen her grow, y’know? From our childhood with the Lavellan clan to the end of our misery in Orlais. She’s always been so soft-hearted, so delicate, so…” she sighs, rubbing her nose until it turns red. Then, she shrugs, as if shaking it all off, forcing a smile and a laugh. “Petty shite, Krem, it’s no—”

“Don’t,” he says, not unkindly, hand moving to her wrist as she tries to shove him in a friendly way, like the chargers do all the time. “Don’t shut me out. Not—not me, Jolie. Not me.”

She looks at him, swallows, frowns as she looks away from him.

“It’s just—” Jolie bites her lip, gestures wildly with her hands. It’s almost night, the dawn making the anchor sparkle and it’s hard not to focus on it. Krem focuses on her, not her titles, and he notices her eyes are wet. “I want her to be happy, you know? For once. I wanted her to leave the Inquisition after Haven and make a life outside this war. And instead she chose to stay.”

“She’s a scout, she doesn’t fight in the front lines,” Krem reminds her gently. “And she’s found someone to love, too. Right here.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, chewing on her lower lip. It’s turning red from abuse and Krem wants to tackle her and kiss the breath off her lungs. The urge doesn’t leave but he pays more attention to her words as she speaks. “Cullen is a good man. I know he’ll treat her the way she deserves. That… he’ll make her feel like the woman she is.”

“That’s because Ae’wen is a woman, and she shouldn’t be treated any other way,” Krem tells her, feeling his heart beating out of his ribcage. He’s afraid she can hear it—he definitely can. In fact, the blood rushing through his veins is the only thing he can hear as he croaks out. “Like I am a man.”

There’s silence, for a moment, and Jolie whips her head in his direction with a stunned look. If Krem weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, he’d be flattered—she hadn’t known! He passed completely as a man, and isn’t that a wonderful notion? That she, at least for a while, had thought of him as a man and nothing less?

“Krem,” she breathes, eyes wide and… strangely vulnerable. “ _Fuck_ , really?”

“I mean, I could take off my shirt if you don’t believe me,” he teases nervously, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of his throat. Shite, he really doesn’t know if this is going right or wrong.

“N-no!” she hurriedly says and—well, she _blushes_ , looks away, eyes darting everywhere and Krem’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. Isn’t that an interesting reaction. “I wouldn’t ask you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

Jolie says that firmly, finally looks at him, that lovely blush still painting the bridge of her nose, the apples of her cheeks. She’s so fucking pretty, with her wild braid and her honey eyes and the orange light hitting the side of her face. Krem feels breathless and tight in his armor—armor he chooses to wear because otherwise he feels inadequate and like a fucking girl.

“I know, Jo” he whispers, carefully moving his fingers near hers, rubbing the side of her hand with his thumb. He hears her breath hitch. “I know.”

There’s a moment where neither of them say anything—Krem looks at her eyes and she stares at his neck, looking like she’s trying to find the right words. In the end, she leans into his space and he welcomes her in his arms, smiling softly as she curls into a tiny little ball. Corypheous, a _darkspawn magister_ is weary of this little thing, this fragile woman who seeks out Krem’s comfort. She clutches at his armor and buries her face on his neck and he finds adorable that her nose is cold, not minding at all that she rubs it against the warmth of his skin. How can he, when she’s trusting him with a moment of vulnerability?

“I thought I was the one sharing a secret,” he chuckles, smiling against her hairline. She smells like peaches, of all things.

“Shut up,” she mumbles into his chest, shoulders curling inwards. “You’re such an amazing man and I’m allowed to feel overwhelmed by my luck with finding you.”

“I’m pretty sure I was the one who found you,” Krem teases and she huffs but doesn’t pull away. Krem is grateful for that. “You okay?” he asks, this time seriously.

“I get so afraid of people finding out about my sister—of them bullying her, harassing her, _hurting_ her,” she says softly, sighing. “It’s so good to know there’s someone else sharing that struggle, that she’s not alone. I think she’s very brave—”

“For living life as she wants?” Krem asks, always hating whenever someone called him _brave_. Dorian shares his views on that. “For not wanting to live the rest of her life screaming on the inside? Rotting?”

“No, no,” Jolie pulls away, hands still grasping his chestplate. He _knows_ she can feel his erratic heartbeat because _Maker’s breath_ , she’s but one inch away from his face, eyes wide and honeyed, shining in the waning light of the day that’s ending. “She’s brave because she knows what she wants and she’s reaching for it. I… I’ve never had that courage.”

“You escaped slavery,” Krem reminds her gently.

“No,” she swallows, looking down, away from his eyes. “No, I just—I followed along. Like always. I never took the chance, I just knew it was there and I followed the elves just like any other. She led them. She led us. She joined the Inquisition on her own, I was _forced_ to be Inquisitor— _Herald of Andraste_ ,” she snarls the title. “God, I’m a coward. And here you are, watching me as I lament my life when yours is much harder—”

“You’ve got an unknown piece of ancient magic in your hand which can open and close rifts to the _Fade_ ,” Krem interrupts, holding her wrist as it shines a bright, neon green. “Jo, you’re giving yourself too little credit. Yes, I’ve struggled and I’m still struggling. Your sister too—I bet she doesn’t feel half as brave as you’re making her out to be. And I bet everyone around here—let it be Cullen, Dorian, Solas— _Maker_ , even Leliana! We move forward, no matter how scared we are. And that’s life, Jo. It’s the choices—the brave ones and the cowardly ones… and sometimes they’re bad and sometimes they’re good. But they’re there. And they’ve passed.”

He drops her wrist, watches her face as she processes everything he’s said. And in truth, he’s processing it, too. He doesn’t feel _brave_ for living as he wants, with Cremissius as his name and his past in Tevinter forgotten behind—and he thinks she’s brave for standing in front of Corypheus and walking through the snow for hours, not giving up on her life when it would be so much easier to become a martyr. It’s a matter of perspective, he thinks, as the sun finally sets and the torches are lit through Skyhold.

“One can only be courageous when they’re afraid, I suppose,” Jolie whispers, hands dropping to the cold stone of the wall.

“I suppose,” Krem murmurs back.

“Krem?”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid,” she whispers so very quietly, eyes wide— _huge_. She looks as young as she is.

“Me too,” he says, doesn’t move as she once again moves into his space and hides on the warm skin of his neck. “We’re all scared of what’s to come. Of the choices we’ll face. Of the choices we don’t have.”

She mumbles something against his neck, pauses, then pulls away only slightly to speak clearly.

“What are you afraid of?”

Krem thinks, chews his lip, looks up at the sky starting to star. The cold is sweeping in.

“I’m scared…” he begins, arm moving around her waist when she gently places her legs over his lap. “…of Orlais Balls.”

She laughs—loudly, a familiar sound that dissipates the air of tension over them. She hits his side and he laughs back, rubbing her back. He doesn’t shy away from her lower back this time and she melts a little into his chest. Krem feels his heart swell.

“Thank you,” she says quietly after a while spent in silence—comfortable and familiar. The night has fully settled in and Krem doesn’t want to part yet. Jolie doesn’t seem to, either. Both are comfortable. It’s intimate. Soft, even.

“For what?” he murmurs back, looking down at her face where it’s mushed against his armor.

“For trusting me,” she smiled, gentle and kind. His heart flies out of his throat.

“You’re welcome,” Krem says.

They say nothing else for the rest of the night.

 


	2. bold enough for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blah blah blah, I just posted the first chapter like three hours ago, who gives a shit? Honestly, I'm just glad to be writing again.  
> Also, I quickly sketched and colored Jolie, and you can see at the end of the chapter!

She comes into the Herald’s Rest with her sad, gray Inquisitor garb on and the top two buttons undone, very much annoyed. The Bull calls for her, lifting his tankard of shitty ale to the air and she smiles for a moment, eyes searching until they find Krem, who is currently in front of Cabot, seemingly bored as he waits.

The Chargers all howl and make a ruckus as she ignores them in favor of getting to her best friend, sighing deeply and falling upon one of the stools perched next to him. Krem startles for a moment before smiling at her—then smirking at her because she’s pouting and of course Krem has to be devilishly handsome when she’s tired out of her mind and can’t keep certain thoughts off her head like climbing him in the middle of half of fucking Skyhold.

“Was the meeting _that_ bad?” he chuckles, flicking a strand of hair that has escaped her braid away from her eyes. He doesn’t touch her skin but she wishes he had.

“Horrible,” she groans into her arms, trying to look cute as she fixes her eyes on him. “Cullen and Josie kept talking over each other and I couldn’t even speak. Sometimes I think they only see my age instead of the things I’ve done.”

It’s the truth, and she’s annoyed by that because Krem surely thinks about her age too. She’s not _that_ young, she’s an adult and yet—yet Leliana keeps things from her and Cullen treats her like a child despite the fact that he’s courting her _younger_ sister.

“You’re not a kid,” Krem says, because she knows that he knows that that’s what she wants to hear. And she likes it, damn it, Krem validates her. “And you should let them know.”

“Our next mission is on Crestwood,” she tells him, helping him out with the tankards he’s taking to the Chargers. Her hands are a bit small but she manages as they walk towards the rambunctious bunch. “And I want to bring Dorian with me but they’re telling me that Vivienne hasn’t gone out since she joined the Inquisition.”

“They think you don’t want her,” Krem says slowly, kicking Dalish’s chair so she’ll get off it and she has a seat. She feels flattered by that, by those little gestures he does. Dalish doesn’t mind, doesn’t say anything as she simply climbs another chair closer to Grim. Now Jolie sits between Bull and Krem and the idiot actually gives her his drink before waving Cabot and sitting back, watching her.

“Yes,” she responds, the Chargers paying attention to her now—all of them. She feels at home between all these people, these misfits. “Because guess what? I fucking _hate_ Vivienne. She’s a bitch,” she mumbles and Stitches snickers while Bull roars a laugh. “What? It’s true! I’ve seen _demons_ turn down proposals far more politely than her.”

“Did you propose to her?” Bull’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No!” she quickly says, making a face. Krem laughs. “Bull, I thought you _knew_ me!”

“Sorry, boss. She’s pretty… _tight_ ,” he smirks and Jolie doesn’t hold back the eyeroll she gives him.  “So you don’t want Vivienne to go on the next mission. Who do you want?”

“I want Cole,” she says firmly. “And Cassandra came up to me and told me I’m delusional for letting a spirit hang around Skyhold—Skyhold is better with Cole around. _I’m_ better with Cole around me. He’s a calming presence and I need him at Crestwood because last time I was there, there… there were a bunch of giant spiders and I really hate those, okay?”

Jolie looks up, daring anyone to make fun of her but the Chargers just nod. And isn’t that refreshing, to be taken seriously? She feels a smile on her lips, stretching them wide, and she quickly hides it by taking a long drink, wincing at the taste. It’s shite but it burns so good when it’s so cold outside that she doesn’t mind, lifting her foot to rest between Krem’s legs, on his chair. He doesn’t even blink but she does notice Bull chuckling.

“So you want Cole? Just take him,” Krem says, scoffing. “You’re the Inquisitor, right? Step down your foot. Let them know _they_ put _you_ in charge. And it makes no sense for them to be stepping all over you.”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding before doing it with more confidence. “Yeah! What the hell? I’m the Inquisitor, they can’t tell me whom I can and cannot bring!”

“Yep,” Stitches nods, picking at the dirt under his nails.

“Well, fuck it, then,” she says. “I’m taking Cole, Dorian and you,” she nudges Krem’s knee and the Chargers all grin and pat their second-in-command on the back, who looks stunned. “I’ve been taking Blackwall a lot and Bull has that meeting soon so—you’re it.”

“You’ve got Cassandra, too,” he stutters, looking surprised and quite stunned in his place. He doesn’t take his tankard of ale when Cabot brings it over. “I don’t—but I—I’m not—”

“I want you, Krem” she says firmly, eyes on his.

And it’s _exactly_ the wrong thing to say.

She should’ve known it, how the Chargers would react, the bunch of horny fucks. They all raise the voice of their voices, bang on the table and begin to make the _outmost inappropriate_ gestures that Jolie has ever seen. She blushes, seeing Skinner drape herself over Krem and moan loudly, Dalish choking on her drink as Bull roars with laughter.

“Get off!” Krem tells Skinner, his cheeks a lovely shade of red as she reenacts a sexual scene with Rocky, laughing once Krem rolls his eyes.

“ _I want you, Cremisius! Oh, yes! Yes!_ ”

“You’re all children,” Jolie splutters out, hiding her face on her drink as she downs it quickly, forgoing the dizziness that comes. With a huff, she stands, rolling her eyes when the Chargers don’t relent on their teasing. “Wanna come with me to tell Josephine the change of plans?”

“If it gets me away from these idiots, then yeah,” he gives her a lopsided smile and makes a rude gesture at Stitches when he simulates—well.

It’s ungodly cold outside and Jolie hates it with all her heart. She’s an elf of heat and sun, dislikes it when it rains or snows or a measly cloud gets in the way of her sunshine. So she curses as they leave the Herald’s Rest, making Krem laugh. Usually, when she’s cold, he’ll wrap himself around her, giving her some of his body heat but—well, they’re in public. And apparently Krem dislikes public affection, even as platonic as theirs.

“Sorry about that,” Krem says as they climb the stairs towards the main building. “They’re all a bunch of idiots.”

“They are,” she laughs. “I mean, I made it easy—I’m sorry. I just… I’ve never taken _you_ out of Skyhold with me and I trust you,” her smile turns into something fond, which she tries to hide but is unable to. “I know you’ll be good to Cole, too. And you and Dorian are friends, so… I’d be glad to have you all in Crestwood.”

“Sure,” he says softly and there’s a tiny smile there, so she thinks she gets her point across.

It turns out that Josephine has already retired to her quarters, so Krem and Jolie stand for a minute there before Krem turns to her, “So you wanna annoy Dorian until he gives us his good bottle of wine?”

“Fuck yes,” she grins, gripping his hand and pulling him to Solas’ rotunda, laughing as he almost trips on some debris left around.

Varric raises his eyebrows at them but doesn’t say anything, merely scribbling on paper while Solas is already glaring at the two of them. He says something under his breath but Jolie honestly doesn’t give two shits about a disapproving elf anymore than she cares about Vivienne’s opinion of her.

Dorian isn’t in his usual spot.

“It’s barely _night_ , where’s everyone?” she bemoans, falling on the leather chair Dorian uses well—it used to be her office chair, all nice leather and plump seating. She gave it to him the second time he read her to sleep. He deserves it more than her.

“I dunno,” Krem hums, leaning against one of the shelves.

Jolie stares at him for a moment, taking in his devilishly handsome features and the shine of his armor. She frowns.

“Why do you keep wearing your armor around Skyhold?” she asks, then immediately regrets it as Krem gets _that look_ on his face.

It’s the face he makes when he thinks about his gender, his body and overall how shitty he feels about it. Ae’wen gets a similar look, too, sometimes, and Jolie hates that she can’t do anything about it. The armor looks heavy, _burdensome_ , and Jolie really hopes that Krem would give himself a break and take it off once in a while. It can’t be healthy.

“It’s complicated,” he says quietly, eyes on the shelf by his side. He pulls out a book like he’s suddenly interested in herbology and its different magical uses. Jolie pulls her knees to her chest and watches him, waits.

She waits for a good while.

Krem sighs, looks over at her, then puts the book back on the shelf.

“My body’s… not ideal,” he winces, looks away. “It’s easier to put on something than… to take it off. Your sister probably has it easier than me, regarding that, but—”

“Your body doesn’t make you a woman—your mind makes you a man,” Jolie interrupts him, frowning. She doesn’t like the way he slumps his shoulders, like he can’t do anything about it. “Just because others have the intelligence of a mouse doesn’t mean the rest of us do. We all know you’re a man, Krem. The people who matter.”

“That should be enough, shouldn’t it?” he says wistfully, letting out a sad smile. “No, Jo, I’m just a bastard who doesn’t feel like that’s enough—I’ve got tits, yeah? Not big but… enough to make me feel like shite,” he sits on a stool nearby and Jolie swallows at the way he heavily swings his body. “I look like a man now. But the moment I don’t, who’s the say people won’t call me she?”

“Me,” she says angrily, huffing. “If a single person dares to call you anything but he, anything but Cremissius, I’ll have their head on a spike to decorate the walls of Skyhold.”

Krem laughs, startled, and Jolie relaxes slightly. She’s wound up, angry about the situation but Krem places a hand on her knee and it feels like the tension leave her every bone.

“You’re sweet,” he whispers and Jolie tries not to blush, her ears twitching with the need to move downwards in pleasure. She loves to hear his compliments, his approval. He does funny things to her that no one ever had before. “I… it’s an issue I’ve gotta fix, I know. But right now, I just don’t…”

“Feel comfortable?” she tries.

“No, comfortable, I do,” he hums, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m just not bold enough to do it.”

“You? Not bold enough to—Krem!” she laughs, standing. Krem looks up at her, surprised that she’s moved. “You’re the boldest person I know!”

“You know my boss,” he grins and Jolie rolls her eyes. “Also, Sera—”

“Shut up,” she slaps a hand over his mouth. “You’re comfortable taking it off, right? Then—take it off!”

“Jo—” he mumbles against her hand when she takes his chestplate and places her fingers on the clasps, waiting. Krem hesitates, looking around, finding absolutely no one and hearing nothing but Solas’ rustling of papers.

It feels like forever to Jolie, watching him look everywhere but her eyes. They’re standing close, Krem is so tall from here, her eyes reach only his chin and he radiates _warmth_. He’s lovely, though he smells of sweat and ale, but she _doesn’t care_. Jolie doesn’t give to shits because Krem has his hands over hers and he’s undone the clasps and his armor falls to the floor, piece by piece, little by little until he’s standing there in normal clothes.

Breeches, undershirt—thin enough to question if maybe he feels cold—and his boots. And, underneath it all, under his shirt, there are bindings. Jolie’s hands hover over them, hesitating until Krem grasps her wrists and squeezes them in reassurance, letting them go. His arms fall at his sides. His breath washes over her face.

She gently lays her hands on his chest, feeling his thundering heartbeat. He’s nervous and he’s bare before her and she wishes she could let him know that this is as important to her as it is to him. That he can trust her to be himself. That she knows he’s a man.

“You’re—” Jolie croaks, blinks as her voice breaks and then clears her throat. “I, ah…”

“The bindings have magic infused in them,” Krem explains softly. “It simulates a flat chest so long as I wear it. A… man’s chest. And it doesn’t chaffe or stress my ribcage, which used to be an issue before I got it.”

“May I?” she asks, kicks herself in the gut once she says it because Krem is nodding and what the _fuck_ is she supposed to do once he takes off his shirt, huh? She can’t drool, he can’t know that she dreams of his lips and his smile and his laugh hidden on the empty pillow beside hers.

Krem takes off his shirt. Breathes out. His muscles ripple and Jolie wants to _die_.

“You’re—I—Krem, I—” she struggles to give a compliment that doesn’t give her feelings away, settling on watching his bindings instead of his powerful, toned stomach, the way his hips cut into his breeches, the bulging biceps that she wants to bite into. She wants him to crush her, Gods, she’s going insane. “You… look nice.”

Krem laughs.

And she’s embarrassed, blushes hard, rubs her face with a groan.

“I’m _nice_?” he teases, arms crossing over his chest. Fuck, he has the most incredible arms.

“Look, I just wanted to make you feel confident! To practice and shite! Don’t make me feel all—”

“I,” a voice interrupts their banter and the two friends turn to the stairs, where Dorian has a brand new bottle of wine and an old looking book in his hands—paired with a cocked eyebrow and a smug little smirk. “Would _love_ to know what you two naughty children are doing half-naked in my little alcove.”

He eyes Krem—appreciative and shite, who wouldn’t be? Jolie thinks that maybe Krem will be shit about it but Dorian is Dorian, and Krem seems fine standing shirtless as the mage runs his eyes over his abs and his torso.

“Not that I mind a gorgeous specimen such as yourself giving me a show, Cremisius, but I think you’re spoken for,” Dorian chuckles, making Jolie glare deeply at him.

“I’m actually not spoken for,” Krem says, pulling on his shirt and—leaving his armor over his arm, not putting it on. It makes Jolie smile a little, moving out of Dorian’s chair.

“Thought that barmaid at the Herald’s Rest had her eyes on you?” he asked, looking at him but nudging Jolie with his foot. She wants to kick his nose in.

“Nah,” Krem shrugs, giving Dorian a roll of his eyes. “Not interested.”

“Huh,” the Vint replies, looking at the Inquisitor. “Curious.”

“You’re coming to Crestwood with us in two days,” she states, plain and simple before snatching his bottle of wine right out of his hands just as he’s about to pour himself a glass. “Also—this is mine now.”

“You’re a horrible friend,” he whines, watching the bottle longingly as she grabs Krem’s arm and moves down the stairs.

Krem laughs, loud and amused—and he doesn’t put his armor on.

 


	3. just your touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be F U N because we're sitll gonna be on Crestwood!

It's different to see her once again on the battlefield. She's still Jolie - all smiles and laughter and messy braid but, at the same time, she's the Inquisitor. The anchor glows and cackles fiercely as she focuses on the rift in front of them, brow furrowed, eyes focused as a scream escapes her lungs. This is the very first time Krem has seen her close these... breaches - and it's incredible and awful at the same time.

Krem rushes to her once she finishes, her knees buckling under her like a baby deer yet he's quick enough to catch her before she falls to the muddy ground, her tiny hands holding onto his arms. It's dark, it's rainy, her hair sticking to her forehead and yet Krem thinks she's never looked better - because she's laughing wildly, trying to stand, looking happy as could be. He thinks he hears Cole giggling behind him.

"Wasn't that amazing?" she says to him, barely hearable over the sound of the rain thundering down on them.

"Yeah," he breathes, eyes fleeting over her beautiful face. "Yeah, it was, Jo."

He thinks he could kiss her. Just tip her chin up and connect their lips before he swallows her whole, before he drowns into her wet skin, her luscious hair, her  _beautiful_ body. He'd treat her so well, he knows he would -

"I don't want to interrupt such lovely scene!" Dorian shouts over thunder and lightning. "But I'm afraid we should find shelter if we're to survive the night!

"Shite, it's raining harder," Jolie winces as the thunder explodes closer to them and Krem feels her fingers gripping his arm harder, pulling herself closer to him. "There was -"

"A cave," Krem nods, pulling her up when he sees her knees still shaking. The elven Inquisitor squeals with surprise but Krem doesn't stop, yelling at Cole and Dorian to keep up as he rushes out of the shore. The water is rising and it's becoming steadily harder to walk as the solid ground turns to pure mud.

Cole easily enters the cave and Krem makes sure he places Jolie in a safe place before turning back and trying to rescue Dorian, who appears to have lost his footing. The mage looks gratefully at Cremisius, giving him a tight-lipped smile as Krem throws his arm over his shoulder and pulls him inside the dimly lit cavern. Jolie is already working on a fire and she throws a worried look at Dorian as he heavily sits on the ground.

"I'm alright, love," he tells her with a forced smile. "My ankle just took a toll."

"It hurts, sharp and hot, not unlike that time father slammed my head against—"

"Cole," Jolie places a hand on the spirit's elbow and pulls a little, shaking her head once he looks at her. "Not right now, okay? Why don't you start to set up camp while I check Dorian's ankle?"

"I'm alright, Inquisitor," the mage says, then huffs as Jolie ignores him and starts to undo his boots. "This doesn't feel right—you're my superior, dear, and—"

"We're not at Skyhold, drop the bullshit," she whispers, feeling around the bone, making Dorian wince. Krem watches while he takes off his soaked, heavy armor. "It may be sprained—do you know of any spell that might help you?"

"I do," he breathes. "But that last rift took quite a chunk of my mana, I'm afraid. I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning, darling."

"Then don't move it around too much," she says gently, patting his back. "I guess we'll have to dry the traditional way, too."

"I've some mana left to do that for you," Dorian smiles softly, lifting a hand and closing his eyes—and Jolie is dry, her hair a slight mess but she seems happy enough. "It's us who will have to strip like barbarians in front of a lady for most of the night."

Jolie laughs softly, shaking her head before standing to help Cole. Krem feels his clothes cling to him and he regrets not bringing a spare set, especially knowing Crestwood's versatile weather. 

"Are you gonna be alright?" Krem asks Dorian as the mage pulls off his armor, wincing at the blood splattered on it. "I mean, you took a nasty hit to the..." He trails off as he sees a wide scar on Dorian's torso, something that probably should've killed him. " _Maker_."

"That," Dorian starts, running his hand through his hair carefully to shake the excess water off it. "Is a present my dearest Venatori left for me before Felix found me."

"That looks awful," Krem blurts out before he realizes he's putting his foot in his mouth. "I-I mean—"

"Oh, well, my partner seems to love it," he laughs before he seems to realize what he's said. "Not that I have one, currently. He isn't even a partner, he's just—well, we just—" Dorian coughs, looks into his bag for an elfroot potion. "You get it."

"There's nothing wrong with liking someone, you know," Krem says softly, eyes drifting to Jolie as he says so. She's talking to Cole about Maker knows what, her vallaslin shining a little in the light of the fire that roars between Dorian and Krem. "Especially here. People don't care about gender, you know."

"I know," Dorian says. It seems he wants to stop talking about it so Krem simply sighs and takes off his shirt, touching his bindings to find them thankfully dry. Well, that's good news. "What I would do right now to be a mage."

"Don't overestimate dry clothes," Dorian tells him, smirking a little as he nudges his head towards Jolie. "I'm sure she quite likes the view."

Krem throws his wet, muddy shirt at Dorian, who laughs before making a disgusted noise, looking at the offensive piece of clothing. 

"Can you stop it with the innuendos? Jolie doesn't think of me that way," he says quietly so the Inquisitor won't overhear. "Nothing is happening between us, you know. We're just good friends."

"Good friends who find warmth within each other at the late hours of the night, high atop the romantic walls of Skyhold, sharing secrets and wine?" Dorian teases but Krem throws him a look.

"You do the same with her," he states.

"Ah, but I enjoy men, not women," Dorian returns.

"Yours is platonic—so is ours. Now drop it, you awful man," he sighs, sitting back, basking on the warmth of the fire instead of the pouring rain outside. "I want nothing but rest tonight and you're not giving me any."

"I could make you sleep alright," the fellow Tevinter flirts—always as easy as breathing, it is with this one. And it just so happens that Jolie walks in and overhears them, flush taking over her cheeks and ears.

"I'm not, ah, interrupting?" She asks quietly, eyes on the ground instead of the two half-naked men in front of her.

"No," Dorian laughs. "I'm pretty sure Krem enjoys the fairer sex, darling."

"You're not wrong," Krem lifts his eyebrows. "You dry, Jo? Need something?"

"Cole and I set up the tents and, uh," she sighs, throwing two ragged, unmade tents to the ground in front of Krem. "Two are broken. So we actually only have two tonight. We can get more once we reach an Inquisition Campsite tomorrow but as of now, we all need to share."

"Well, I'll gladly share with Cole," Dorian jumps up, smiling wide, and Krem wants to  _murder_  him on the spot. "I sleep so very well with him around, did you know? So if you don't mind, I'll go and turn myself in for the night."

"Wait, without dinner?" Jolie starts, startled, watching the mage leave with panicked eyes. "Dorian, but Cole doesn't—!"

The tent flap lowers, the light within is turned off and apparently Dorian has gone early to bed if only to perpetually torture Krem. He truly hates the mage right then—forcing Jolie to sleep next to Krem, when she probably would feel more comfortable sharing it with Dorian or Cole? Fucking magister.

"You can share with Cole if you'd like," Krem offers kindly and Jolie sighs, rubbing her forehead.

"Cole doesn't sleep," she mumbles. "He stares all night at you. I think he is entertained by human dreams."

"That's... disturbing and I am suddenly very thankful that I get to sleep with you," he says. It's only when the tips of Jolie's ears burn a bright red that he realizes what he's said. " _Next_ to you! I meant next to you! Not  _with_ you, no, I..." he groans. "Maker, I've spent far too much time with Dalish."

Jolie laughs—it's a bit awkward and Krem fears that she may actually be uncomfortable with sharing tent with him. "Well, between you and me... I really don't wanna share with Dorian either," she leans over and giggles as she whispers. "He  _snores_ so bad he could put the Bull to shame."

Krem lets out a surprised laugh, smiling gently. "Then I guess it won't be as bad to sleep next to me, then."

"I suppose not," she whispers to him, the corners of her mouth curling up. "Wanna share a measle dinner with one irresponsible Inquisitor?"

"Sure thing," he chuckles.

Dinner is measle indeed—it's fine by his standards, truly, but he worries about Jolie. She's a thin one, she always forgets to eat back in Skyhold and he thinks he could easily wrap his hand around half her waist. Then, of course, that though trails to both his hands wrapped around her tiny little waist, lifting her up to his lap and—

"—grasping her face, watching her plump lips, eyes on mine as I taste her tongue," Cole whispers from behind Krem and the man nearly jumps a three feet up in the air. 

" _Andraste's_ _tits,_ Cole! Don't—don't  _fucking_ do that, Gods," he runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Not behind me! You know that!"

"You were screaming your thoughts to me," Cole says with a small smile, crouched by the entrance of the cave.

"What did he say?" Jolie asks curiously as she finishes her meal, eyes on Krem as the warrior turns to her and flushes. "Private?" She guesses.

"Yeah," Krem breathes. "Sorry, um—you're sharing tent with Dorian tonight, Cole. You don't mind?"

"Dorian is sad," Cole says, eyes on the ground where he starts to make lines. It isn't until a few minutes in silence go by that Krem recognizes the lines as the streets of Minrathous. "He is very sad all the time and I try to make it better with wine but wine makes him sadder. It's what he wants. So I get the Iron Bull and the Iron Bull makes him happy but confused. What should I do?"

"Bull?" Krem's eyebrows shoot up, surprised, and Jolie gasps. "Cole, you're telling me Bull is Dorian's paramour?"

"He calls me kadan, tells me he likes my smile, then grabs my—"

"I don't think I want to know," Krem interrupts but Cole keeps going.

"—hand and I can sleep like back when mother held me as a child," Cole says quietly. "I get The Iron Bull?"

Jolie purses her lips as Krem turns to her—because Cole is looking at the Inquisitor, eyes wide, questioning. The kid trusts her, seems to be her age and seems to feel like she'll understand him better. Krem gets that—Jolie is never one to judge. And she seems so very protective of Cole a lot of times.

"Yeah, Cole," she says gently. "You get Bull whenever Dorian is sad."

Cole smiles—and he's gone. Krem has only blinked but suddenly the spirit is not there. 

"I'll never get used to that," he whispers, turning to Jolie.

"You will," she promises with a soft laugh before standing, stretching. She moves to the tent without a word and it's only then that Krem realizes that they are going to sleep next to each other. 

 _Fuck_.

He takes a moment to gather his wits, staring at the fire, then at the storm outside. It really is getting crazy and he hopes that come tomorrow morning, they'll be able to get out and find the Inquisition's campsite, get their supplies, drain the old side of Crestwood and close the damn rift that's causing all the commotion.

Krem stands, takes a deep breath and puts out the fire before going into the tent. He finds Jolie curled up around a bunch of blankets she's brought because she gets cold so easily. The Vint smiles, walks around the tent putting things together because he's dreading the actual thought of falling asleep and—Maker forbid— _snuggling_ into her while they aren't conscious. Jolie doesn't look like she's ever been intimate with anyone,  _ever_ , and he knows because she blushes like a virgin. So she must be one.

That  _really_ isn't a thought he should be focusing on.

"Krem," Jolie whines and he freezes, turning to her. "Stop  _pacing_ and just come to bed already."

Her hand is moving, moving, thin fingers wrapping around his wrist, fuck, and suddenly he's kneeling, then laying down, then her hands are pushing him on his back and suddenly, her head's resting on his chest. Her front against his side. Blankets around them. Oh.  _Oh_.

"Goodnight," Jolie sighs, her breath washing over his binds and his stomach. His heart flips and he knows she can hear it. "Calm down, Krem, you're not violating my innocence.  _Gods_."

"Forgive me for thinking you might not be comfortable  _cuddling_ into a mercery, Jo," he teases, arm frozen underneath her. Fuck, is he supposed to wrap it around her?

"I'm not that naïve, I'll let you know," she huffs, lifting her head up to look at him. "Dorian is the scum of Tevinter, apparently, and I snuggle him a lot. Also, Blackwall gives great hugs."

"Blackwall is a good man," Krem says before blinking. "Wait, you've hugged  _Blackwall_?"

"He saved my life!" She giggles, shaking her head. It's only then that he realizes her hair is loose. "I think I've hugged everyone in the Inquisition, actually. I  _like_ hugs. Hugs are nice. And people don't give enough."

"Hugs  _are_  nice," Krem whispers. His hands are shaking. His heart is thundering like the weather outside.

"Krem?" Jolie whispered, noticing so. "Hey, you... you alright?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, swallowing hard. "I just don't get touched that much outside of a beating, Jo."

She falls quiet, frowning at him. The rain falls outside the cave. Dorian snores.

"I... I touch you all the time," she says cautiously.

"Yeah but, uh... this is a bit different than a casual hug or your hand on my shoulder," he whispers, trying to explain but finding words clogged on his throat. "It's pretty fucking stupid, uh, but I think Allora—Skyhold's surgeon? Yeah, she—she told me it was touch-starvation or some shite like that. Reason why I can't sleep and I've lately been more anxious."

" _Krem_ ," Jolie says, a lot of feeling in her voice as she sits up to properly look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs, looks at the tent walls instead of her sad, sad eyes.

"It's whatever," he mumbles. "Used to it. N'ne of the Charges would willingly  _cuddle_  anyone—Rocky would have my head if I asked him, for example."

"You've got  _me_ , you know I don't mind—"

"It's intimate, Jo, and you're not just my friend, you're the  _Inquisitor_ ," he says, fully sits up to frown at her. "Don't you hear what they say? What they think of that Vint mercenary hanging around you? Josephine nearly had my head the other day when I put my hand on your shoulder—"

"Is that why you don't even touch me in public?" Her eyes widen and Krem looks away. "Shite, Krem, you think I give a single  _fuck_  about what anyone says in Skyhold?"

"You should," he whispers. "You're the In—"

"No," she says, her voice cracking. "No,  _fuck that_ , come here."

"Jo—"

"Gods, just come here, I don't care—"

"It's not about  _you or me_ , it's about the Inquisition! It's about—Jolie!"

Krem jumps as she  _climbs_  on his lap, arms going around his neck, legs squeezing his waist and  _Maker_ , hasn't he imagined this position a billion times as she pushes on his chest? He falls on the blankets, staring at her wide-eyed, for once grateful that he doesn't have a cock or she'd  _know_  right now. She would really know. Because she's wearing her undershirt and he can see the beautiful outline of her breasts, can feel the  _warmth_  of her right on his thigh and she's saying something, Krem, listen!

"—don't care about anyone else but you. The Inquisition can go fuck itself. Corypheus can go suck a  _dick_ ," and that startles a laugh out of Krem. Maker, she's so inappropriate and he fucking loves it. "I would give every single thing I've got for you, Krem. You're—" she makes a wounded sound and Krem feels his hands moving on their own to her waist, squeezing as her eyes go wet. "Gods, Cremisius, you're the reason why I'm still sane."

"Jolie—" he tries but the words don't come out so they stay in pregnant silence, watching each other, breathing hard because it feels like they've run a marathon. "I..."

"If I say I'm alright with  _this_ ," she starts to lower her chest to his and he can  _barely breathe, shite_. "Then I'm okay. You'll sleep better. And so will I. Why let others judge us for what makes us happy? Why let others influence our decisions when they've got  _nothing_ to do with us?"

"Yeah, well," his words come in the wrong pitch and he coughs. She's a mere inch away from his face. "M-maybe you're right."

"I am," she says firmly before her hands move to the back of his head, caressing the short hair shorn. He shivers and she smiles into his neck. "Goodnight, Krem. And don't let go of me."

"I'd never," he whispers, eyes wide. "I'd... I'd never..."

He falls asleep. Better than he ever has.


	4. what i feel for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodish??? Chapter???

It starts as a good day.

Krem wakes up with his nose buried on Jolie's hair, his arm swung casually around her waist as her tiny hands clutching at his stomach. He feels panic for a second, thinking of how inappropriate it is to be cuddling the inquisitor, how Jolie will push him away as soon as she wakes, how Ae'wen would have his head if she ever finds out he's made her sister uncomfortable—but then she shifts, sighing quietly, her nose rubbing against his collarbone and her hands settling further up his stomach.

And well, he remembers last night.

"Morning," Jolie croaks—not an attractive sound, which makes him laugh softly. His voice is sore too but she doesn't seem to mind as he runs the back of his hand through the soft skin of her lower back. Jolie shivers a little and he's about to pull his hand away when she melts into him, smiling further.

"How did you sleep?" He asks her, watching her curl up into the warmth of his body. 

"Wonderful," she smiles wide against his chest, he can feel it through his binds. "But I should be asking  _you._ How did you sleep, Krem?"

The mercenary smiles lopsidedly, pulling her closer as he thinks about how fucking well he's slept. Probably the best hes gotten in his life.

"Well, I guess you didn't snore  _too_ bad," he teases, laughing when she kicks him—right before entwining their legs together. "I jest, I jest," he says gently, running his nose through her hairline just because now he knows that he can. "I slept so fucking well, Jo—you wouldn't believe how well-rested I feel now."

"Well, you know what that means?" She grins at him, looking up so their eyes meet.

"Hmm?" He responds, still a bit sleepy.

"You're sneaking into my rooms from now on," she whispers, making him choke out a laugh. "What? It's all for the best! You sleep better,  _I_ sleep better! All pro's, no con's."

"You forget the fact that Josephine would have my head if she found out," he tells her, cocking an eyebrow. "And what would you say to the servants who come in the morning? People would eventually find out and they'd—"

He made a sound of protest as Jolie slapped a hand over his mouth, giving him an unamused look.

"I was trying to be sweet and now you go and ruin it for me, you dimwit," she pouts and Krem rolls them over so he's above her, pouting back, making her laugh loudly. "What are you  _doing_?!"

"What does it look like? I'm begging for forgiveness! Sorry, my darling Jolie, that I ruined the sweet moment we were having! Could I ever be forgiven?"

"Hmm, I don't know," she teases, hands moving to his shoulders. He thinks he feels her squeezing them but he's not sure. "What do I get?"

"I don't know," Krem responds, lungs working further as his heartbeat increases. Shit,  _is_ this shit feeling like one of Varric's shitty novels or is it him? "What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things," Jolie whispers, eyes moving to his lips real quick before they're back on his eyes.

Krem hasn't imagined that. No, he fucking  _hasn't_. She just fucking looked at his lips, Maker, she wants him to kiss her. Jolie—Jo wants him to  _kiss her_.

"Tell me any and I'll get it for you," he tells her, emboldened, one hand moving to the back of her knee before pulling it over his hip. He settles between her legs with confidence, smirking at the way she blushes and squirms, his unexpected behavior making her let out a gush of breath. "Tell me what you want, ma vhenan."

She gasps, eyes going wide at his garbled, improvised Elvish and he's going in for the kill when the tent flap pulls open, revealing Dorian—who freezes at the sight he's met with. He ducks as a boot flies to his head, eyes wide.

"Get the fuck out!" Krem growls at the mage—always the fucking opportunist.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry!" He cries out, leaving their tent.

Krem still glares at it for a few seconds before he's pulled out of it by Jolie sitting up, her lovely pointed ears sitting downwards and tinged red. She's stuttering something, looking like she's pulling away from him and no, Krem can't have that, Dorian's opportunism will  _not_ ruin this for him.

"L-looks like it's already day," Jolie stutters out, looking everywhere but at him, almost as if she's looking for her daily clothes. "We better get started on the—"

"Jo," Krem places a hand beside her thigh on the ground, his other hand moving to the back of her neck. "For the love of God—just shut up and let me kiss you."

Jolie makes a strangled noise—somewhere between a whine and a whimper and suddenly he's got a lapful of elf, her lips on his, tiny hands grasping the short hair on the back of his neck. Krem groans and kisses her back, pushing his tongue between her lips, running his hands through her sides until he grabs at one of her hips with one hand and her ass with the other. Maker, how long has he wanted to do this?

He can't even think about it, what with Jolie making tiny little sounds into his mouth, getting progressively bolder and bolder, trying to push him down to the ground. He lets her—lets her settle on his lap, straddle him as she starts to run her fingers through his hair and moan against his tongue. It sets him on fire and there's nothing more he wants to do than to spread her legs open and bury his face between them but—

"Jo," he breathes as he pulls away, panting, hearing her whine and feeling wet little kisses on his jaw. "Amatus, I'm afraid we gotta stop—"

"Why?" She looks up, eyes blown, her hair creating a curtain between their hearts and the rest of the world. "Dorian won't mind. Cole won't, either. Nobody's waiting."

"We're in a tent, in a cave, in the middle of Crestwood—you're muddy and so am I and... well, can you blame a guy for wanting to make it romantic?" His hand moves to her hip, squeezes with affection as her eyes widen in surprise. "You think I didn't know you have no idea about sex?"

"I  _do_!" She slaps his shoulder, pouts and sits up—on his fucking lap,  _Andraste_ _guide him._ "Everyone's talked plenty about it! I've heard more from Bull in this past month than I've heard in my entire life, y'know?"

"I  _know_ ," he chuckles, sitting up and kissing her lower lip, which is still sticking out. She's adorable. "But I wanna make it good for you, yeah? Also, I'm  _fine_ with sex right off the bat, but  _are_ you? Or do you want this just because you want  _me_?"

"And you?" She turns to him, now chewing on her lip, looking nervous. "Do you want sex or do you actually want me?"

"Jo, I think it's pretty obvious I'm crazy about you," Krem says gently, hand squeezing hers, smiling gently.

It's the right thing to say—Jolie relaxes and smiles back, hands moving to rest once more on his chest. She giggles a little, picks on a loose threat of his binds and he feels a bubble of happiness he's never felt before in his life without the Chargers around. 

"What's so funny?" He chuckles, hands resting behind him to support his position.

"For the longest time, I thought you'd never look twice at me—not  _that_  way, you know?" She paints little symbols and sygils on his chest, sighing as one of his hands move her hair behind her lovely shoulder and then cups her face. "I kept thinking I'd find you with Adelee from the Herald's Rest. She's a  _woman_ , yeah? And I look like a kid next to her..."

"Adelee hasn't got shit on you," Krem says. "Who cares for tits when I can enjoy my best friend?"

She smiles wide at that, giggling again—Andraste, it's wonderful to hear it like this. It's still warm in their tent, her body's soft and pliant under his hands and when he leans up to kiss her she closes her eyes right before him and kisses back. It's everything he's ever wanted.

Apparently, good things can't last.

It's snowing in Skyhold when they get back from Crestwood that very night. It's been hours of hard riding and Krem should be annoyed but all he feels is worry as he watches Jolie's tensed up back. She hasn't said a word since they left and if he knows her, the moment they step down their horses, she'll lock herself up in her quarters.

Dorian tries to talk to her before they reach the gates, talking about home and good food and a proper bed but Jolie doesn't even attempt to look like she's listening. She just stares ahead, watching the gates open, watching everyone around her with that sad and frustrated look in her eyes. Krem wishes he could do something about it—no, he wishes she'd  _let him_  do something about it.

"Inquisitor, you're back! Good!" Josephine is already marching towards Jolie's horse. "You'll be glad to know that all preparation for the—"

The ambassador blinks as Jolie steps down and then walks away, not even saying hello to her. Josephine looks offended, ready to scold her but Dorian places a hand on her shoulder and winces, shaking his head. Krem is still questioning whether he should follow her or not.

"What in Andraste's name happened?" Josephine blinks at Dorian, Cole and Krem.

"Bad things," Cole says, looking far better now that Jolie is gone. He still looks rugged and bad, shoulders curled inwards to make himself smaller. 

"The mayor or Crestwood," Dorian explains softly. "He... he was the one who flooded Old Crestwood back during the Blight. He killed all of the town residents who fell ill in order to control the Blight."

Josephine gasps, eyes wide, hand moving to her mouth. 

"That's horrible!" She whispers, incredulous. "And the Inquisitor—"

"She needs a moment," Krem tells her quickly, wincing. "She's been... unresponsive. Let me try and talk to her. She probably is livid about being fooled."

He knows she's not—they all know she's not. But it's better to let the people of Skyhold that are currently listening in think so. Josephine nods at him, steps back and Krem is walking towards the main building. He wants to put his things in his room, talk to Bull, see the Chargers but he's worried about Jolie and it won't be long before Cullen or Leliana are knocking on her door.

Talking about Jolie's quarters—he's never actually been there.

Ever.

He hesitates right then and maybe it's the wrong thing to do, because he feels eyes on him. There are Orlesian nobles around, watching him, judging him—and judging the Inquisitor, too. Krem doesn't care about his reputation, he really,  _really_ doesn't. But he cares for Jolie. And he cares about what others think of her. And maybe he shouldn't come to her quarters when it's so late at night but... but—

 _But_.

He opens the door and quickly shuts it behind him. No going back now, Krem, he thinks, climbing the stairs with heavy feet. He's still hesitating about this whole thing until he nears the final door and hears a muffled sob, his heart breaking. Oh,  _Jolie_.

"Go away, Josephine!" She shouts as he opens the door and rushes in. "I'm not going to your  _stupid_  war table!"

She's sobbing in her bed, face buried on her pillows. She has taken off her boots and her coat and it's still  _freezing_ here. Krem pauses for a second before stepping over to her bed, sitting on it, his hand moving to the back of her head.

"It's not Josephine," he says gently and Jolie's head snaps up, eyes red and puffy.

"Krem," she whispers before she quickly tries to ease all evidence of her crying, as if he hadn't already seen her. "I was just—I didn't—"

"Why would you hide from me?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"I—you—" she sniffles, looking embarrassed. "Krem, you're so—strong. All this shite happens to you and you brave through it. You don't cry, you don't let it get to you, and I—" she sniffs, her eyes water again and Krem feels his heart break as she chokes out a sob. " _All those people_!"

He catches her, hugs her tightly as she cries. He tries to be comforting despite the fact that he's never in his life had anyone he has to comfort.  

Now he does, though, and he rubs her back and hold her through it. Jolie is tiny right then, curled up halfway on his lap and crying into his shoulder. She keeps talking between sobs about the pain and suffering of all those innocent lives, about the kids who could've been saved, the people who were fine and got caught in the crossfire. She truly hurts for them.

It's only when she starts to calm down that Krem speaks.

"Caring about people," he begins, making her look up at him. "Wanting to make people's lives better and suffering because they've been wronged and hurt—that's not bad, Jo. It means you care about them, that you actually want to make things right. Crying because of it? It doesn't make you weak—it makes you... caring," he winces—he's not really expressing himself right—he's tired beyond reason but it seems to work because Jolie nods against his chestplate and seems to unwind. "So don't think it's a weakness, alright? It's not. It's good that you care for them all."

"I do," she whispers, sighing. "I do. It hurt a lot, Krem. It  _hurts_. Reminds me of... of how easily some people dismiss other lives. Elven lives."

He winces, thinks that maybe a man from Tevinter shouldn't be comforting an elf like that but she just clings to him.

"I'm sorry," he says instead.

Jolie shakes her head, pulls away and rubs her eyes. "M'tired," she says quietly. "And I'm sure you are, too."

"Yeah," he sighs. "It's been... quite a long day."

Jolie nods and Krem stands as she falls into bed, curling around one of her pillows as if it were—well, as if it were him. He smiles slightly and goes to put on a fire in the chimney, close the drapes over every window and overall make her quarters liveable again. Then he turns to her and take off her traveling clothes, leaving her in her smalls and a clean shirt he finds as he roams around. When she's finally in bed, he turns to leave—

"Stay," she whispers, so quiet that he almost doesn't hear it.

And Krem would like to say that he's a gentleman—that he kisses her forehead, then her lips and leaves. Takes a bath, goes to bed and checks on her in the morning.

Krem, apparently, is not a gentleman.

He takes off his armor with haste, wanting it off his body already. It's heavy and sticky and dirty and he feels awful when he stands in his bindings and breeches, wincing. Looking around, he finds a jar filled to the brim with water and he's quick to warm it by the fire. He thinks Jolie is asleep as he cleans himself up as much as he can—he  _is_ , after all, about to share bed with her and he has at least some decorum. Some part of him says it's the Tevinter in himself but Dorian would call it common decency. 

He dries his hair quickly with a towel he finds on her washroom and finally decides to join Jolie in bed—and she's awake. She's watching him through tired eyes, her face the only thing outside her blankets before she pulls them off her body and pats the space beside her. It's an invitation and he gladly takes it, groaning as he falls in because fuck it if it isn't the most comfortable thing he's ever laid on.

"Good one, isn't it?" She teases—it doesn't have the usual force behind it but he'll take it. Especially when she presses herself against his front and curls up into him.

"I could die on this bed," he confessed with a soft groan, moving on his back. Andraste, he's on a bed made of clouds. 

Jolie moves so she's plastered to his side, cold nose a beacon on his neck and he almost curses. But then she's pulling the blanket over them and his arm is around her shoulders and he's asleep. Deep asleep. Without even noticing—a warm, familiar body beside his and the certainty that whatever happens—

Whatever happens, will happen.

But at least he'll have her.


	5. feels bad bad bad worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: dysphoria in this chapter! It was kind of awful to write so... yeah. Forgive me being absent for so long. 
> 
> Happy new year!

Jolie awakes in a much better mood than she slept with. For once, she's in Krem's arms, which is always something good. Two, she hasn't been awakened by  _anybody_. 

The sun is high, the birds are chirping, life stirs outside her window around Skyhold and yet she's still asleep with a terribly handsome man wrapped around her back. That can only mean one thing—Josephine has let her sleep.

Oh, the  _possibilities_. Jolie can stay in her bed as long as she wants, it seems, and none of her advisors will come barging in to let her know a city's on fire and the next Blight is upon them. The Inquisitor smiles, sighing, turning around to face Krem. 

He's deep asleep, apparently. His mouth's open and little snores are coming out of it. Jolie has never told him that he snores—lest he decide not to sleep around her, Gods forbid. He looks good like this: relaxed, steady, not on such high alert. He deserves to rest, Jolie thinks with a small frown, remembering the previous night.

She'd been in hysterics, she now thinks with a tiny blush coming to her cheeks. She'd cried for how long in his arms? How tired had he been from the hasty trip she'd forced upon everyone in her desperate attempt to get back to a familiar place? And yet he'd held her, helped her dress into something more comfortable, tidied and readied the room. The more Jolie thinks about it, the guiltier she feels.

She has a clear head now, she thinks firmly as she starts to kiss under his jaw, fingers twitching with the uncertainty of what exactly she should do. Krem makes a noise—and it sounds pleased so Jolie continues to kiss there, nipping slightly at the curve of his jaw, moving towards his ear. She feels Krem's hands twitching, then moving as his arms wrap more firmly around her.

"Morning to you too," he groans, his throaty voice making her knees snap together and her belly swoop. Gods, she really wants to listen to that sound every single morning. "What's this loving mood you're in, Jo?"

"You're just really nice to me," she mumbles, hiding her reddened face on his neck because she doesn't know what to do once she reaches his ear and she's so fucking embarrassed about it. "And you're handsome in the mornings."

"Oh?" He sounds amused but Jolie notices the happy tone of his voice, how his vain side comes out. "You mean when I'm drooling all over your pillow?"

"You don't drool," she says, sucking in a sharp breath when his hand moves under her shirt and lovingly touches her lower back with his bare fingers. "You, um..." It's moving higher, moving to the side, and Jolie bare has time to think before his thumb brushes the underside of her breast. Her face feels hot and she's squirming a little in his arms, feeling heat already between her legs. "Y-you..."

"I what?" He whispers into her ear, his other hand teasing the edge of her smalls. 

She doesn't answer—can't answer, not when Krem has started to kiss down the column of her neck, smirk pressed into her flushed skin.

"Krem," she breathes, heart hammering against her ribcage.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he whispers, mouth on her collarbones, his breath washing over her skin under her shirt. It's the only thing that's preserving her decency and Jolie wants it  _off_.

" _Don't stop_ ," she begs, voice cracking—and she's suddenly on her back, head dizzy with desire as she sees Krem's pupils blown, grin stretching his lips.

"Maker, Jo," he says, voice low, hands so fucking  _big, ah,_ her shirt's moving over her ribcage, above her head, off the bed to the floor and she should probably feel cold but she feels like she's melting as Krem speaks. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

Jolie whines when he parts her legs gently and slips between them, his binded chest pressed to her stomach, his lips finding her right breast easily. She jerks as he pulls her nipple into his mout, sucking on it, dragging his teeth against the sensitive, dark skin of her chest and  _oh, fuck, his tongue is there too_.

"I've barely done anything," he laughs as he pulls away slightly, mischievous eyes finding her darkened ones, pressing closer. "I bet you're wet as hell."

Jolie covers her face with her hands, face ablaze. It only makes him laugh out loud, a hoarse bark that has her toes curling. Everything about Krem turned her on back then—his shoulders, his smirk, his accent, his arms—but who knew he could be so...  _indecent_  and  _crude_  in bed? Gods, she's in bed. With Krem.  _Right now_.

"Hey, hey, don't hide from me, I'm sorry, am I going too fast?" His voice turns gentle— _just what she fucking needs—_ "We can go slower, Jo, you set the pace."

His hand moves to her chin, pulls her away from her hiding place behind her hands and she finds nothing but care in his face, his handsome, familiar face. Gods but she loves him so. She swallows, eyes moving to the side, to the clear sky of the mountains as she speaks so her head won't explode of embarrassment.

"I liked what you were doing," she whispers, shivering a little as she feels his hand on her side, gently stroking there. "I... I liked everything. I want more."

"We should maybe set some boundaries," Krem begins, looking worried.

"We should maybe fuck," she blurts, immediately wanting to bury her head underground like one of those curious little animals from the North—ostriches, Dorian had told her once. 

Jolie wants to be an ostrich, yeah—well, until Krem makes a small noise and dives in to taste the skin of her neck, making her gasp. She clutches at his shoulders and thinks that she'd do anything to be able to roam—

Wait a minute.

She  _can_.

Jolie gladly grasps at the muscles of his back, delighting in how they shift as he moves, their solidness, the hard pull as he moves his hands to her smalls and pulls them slowly down her legs. His lips are leaving a cold trail of saliva down the center of her body—between her breasts, down her stomach, past her navel until he's  _there_.

"A- _ah!_ " Jolie whines, knees trying to lock together at the first swipe of his tongue but Krem's hands are strong as they pry her legs apart. She feels exposed and vulnerable and...  _adult_. And she  _is_ an adult but rarely does she get to feel that way what with everyone looking down their nose at her age but Gods, does Krem make her feel like the most desirable elven woman. "Oh!"

"You're pretty vocal," he hums from his perch, nose pressing into that sensitive place between her thigh and her pelvis. She whimpers, eyes rolling up and head thrown back as he presses and rubs his thumb gently against the pearl of her sex. "I like that."

"S-stop talking!" She squeaks, blushing furiously.

"You  _really_  haven't ever been with anyone?" Krem asks curiously, forgoing her demand and licking into her as he waits for an answer, her thighs squeezing his head in what she thinks must be a painful grip. Well, she thinks so later—right now she can't even fucking understand him. So she doesn't answer, merely whining when he pulls away. "Jo, I'm talking to you."

"If you want to  _talk_ , then why are you  _there_?!" She gasps out, chest heaving.

"Because," he smirks once she finally looks at him—which might as well have been the very end of her because his mouth and chin are covered with—with— _her_ and he looks like the cat who got the cream. "I like being here. Lets me taste you and fluster you at the same time."

"You're evil," she states, sitting up to try and control her emotions better. "Actually evil. Forget Corypheus,  _you're_ the evil one. Everyone was right about Tevinter."

Krem is laughing into her thigh, shoulders shaking and she strokes them fondly. They know she doesn't mean it at all, that Krem is probably the best thing that's ever happened to her. But it's fun to tease because that's just what they do. Jolie and Krem. Krem and Jolie. Together. Like always.

Feels like so much more than six months that they’ve known each other.

"If I'm so evil, then how come you're letting me court you?" He cocks an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. "See? I'm not that bad," he moves up her body, covering it with his before kissing her sweetly. She felts a jolt of arousal at the fact that she can  _taste herself_  on his tongue but she pushes that urge away to instead wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer.

Granted, it doesn't help at all, it just drives her a little crazier. He's on top of her, all hard muscle and masculine comfort and Jolie kisses him deeper and deeper. It doesn't make her ears go red, when they kiss like this, despite the fact that his tongue's plunging into her mouth and his hips are shifting slightly where they rest between her legs. 

"Krem—" she chokes as he bites the tapered tip of her ear and pushes a finger into her. " _Oooh_ _, ah!_ "

"Fuck," he groans, breath hot. "Maker, Jo, you're fucking  _tight_."

"W-what do you expect?" She moans, spreading her legs because it feels strange and a bit uncomfortable but at the same time  _so fucking good_ _._ "I've never had  _anything_ in there."

Krem pauses, his surprise evident, and when he pulls back Jolie is flushed and pouty. Why the hell does he stop? And move away? What has she said?

"You've never touched yourself?" He asks, stunned.

"No," she whispers, now closing her legs and sitting against the headboard. Krem makes a small noise, looks away with a strange face. "Is... that a problem?"

"No," his voice is strained. "No, it's—it's fine, Jo, it's your body. Yours. To... do as you please, whenever you please," he swallows, throat moving and that's when she understands it, a hot pang of guilt flowing through her.

Of course. He looks at her, looks at her body and thinks—thinks that she has the one thing he'll never have. And why wouldn't she use it? Why wouldn't she feel comfortable enough with her genitals since she is a woman within a woman's body? And yet, even though she has that—what he doesn't have—she still doesn't take advantage, doesn't use it. 

"Do you... feel okay?" She asks him quietly, hand moving to his. Jolie thinks he won't take it but he entwines their fingers together and squeezes gently, rubbing the side of her hand. It helps her calm down but she wonders if it works for him as well. "Krem?"

"I'm alright," he says, still not looking at her—still in his binds and his pants even though she's been naked for a while. 

Jolie feels awful.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," she begins, crawling over to where he's sitting on the edge of her bed. "I like having you in my bed, regardless of what we do," her head rests on his shoulder and a muscle on his jaw twitches. "I truly care about you, Krem, and I don't care about the body you were born—"

"Well, I do," he says, words rushed and quick.

Silence reigns. Jolie feels her hummingbird heart and his lion fury and then he's standing, dressing up, making her swallow.

"I'm sorry," he says, words thick as he pulls his shirt quickly over him. "I just—need some time right now and I just can't do it while you're—while this is—while I—"

"Krem," she says softly, pulling a loose blanket over her, feeling exposed and very, very cold. "It's fine," in a whisper, she tries to smile. "Go. Do whatever you need to do."

He leaves—runs out of her room, really, and Jolie tries her damnest not to cry. She is able to make it, barely, and starts to get dressed for the day. She thinks of anything that isn't Krem as she walks to her desk and starts to look for documents to read, to check, to sign, to anything. But there's nothing because Josephine takes them, because Cullen reads them over to her during meetings and because nobody in this damned fucking place trusts a child to do anything.

Jolie slams her head against her desk so she doesn't look at her bed, still unmade because she can't bring herself to think about how good this morning has been.

She doesn't know how much time passes as she wallows in her own misery, sniffling quietly into unimportant papers about the gardens of Skyhold but suddenly there's the familiar creak of her bedroom door and familiar horns poke out from the corridor that leads to her room. 

If it were Dorian, she wouldn't have minded—but it's Bull. So Jolie wipes away her tears quickly, trying to look busy as she picks up a quill and spreads a few papers around. She doesn't look up, not even as Bull stops in front of her desk and sits down on a spare chair that maybe is too small for him. It groans at his weight.

"Oh, hey, Bull," she tries to say casually but her voice breaks and the moment she looks up, she sees his no-bullshit face. "How, um... how are you? Is there something I can do for—"

"Krem is the biggest fool on existence," the massive qunari begins and she blinks at him, startled. "First of all, you don't leave your partner after the first morning together—and I think he left right after you felt very vulnerable. Am I right?"

Jolie swallows. Bull nods.

"Alright, then. Krem is in the wrong this time," he crosses his arms, sits back as Jolie sniffles. "I know it doesn't make you feel better, boss, but it's past lunch time and you have not moved out of your quarters. Everyone is worried about you and you're su—"

"I feel awful," she says, exhales everything she has in one breath before she begins and suddenly she can't stop. "I feel awful because I've the genitals I wants and he doesn't, Bull. And he's handsome and he's masculine and he makes me feel like a woman when all I am is a child," her eyes are filling up, burning, spilling tears over her hot, ugly face. "I'm a child and I know all of you think so! You think I don't know what everyone says behind my back?! What they say about Krem and I?!"

"Hey, hey," Bull stands, moves to her side, pulls her into a hug as she chokes out a sob. "Stop that. You know those Orlesian bastards know nothing of either of you. It shouldn't bother you."

"Well, it does!" She sobs. "It fucking does, Bull! Everything fucking bothers me because I'm a  _kid_!"

"Just because you're young doesn't mean you're a child," Bull says calmly. "You're old enough to be responsible, to know that every action has a consequence, to face a fucking magister darkspawn and  _live_ to tell the tale. Boss, if that's not mature, I don't know what is."

"I didn't really face him," she sniffles, rubbing her eyes. "I... prepared the trebuchet and then fell to some mines. I landed on my elbow and..." She sees his amused smile and suddenly it's very funny. "It hurt a lot! Don't laugh!"

He laughs—loud and fully. She giggles as well, choking a little on leftover tears. 

"Nobody that matters thinks you're a kid, boss," Bull tells her, patting her back gently—as gentle as Bull can be, of course. "And about Krem... well, sex for him will be strange at first."

"Hasn't he had sex before?" She frowns, then blushes as she thinks that she's talking to the Iron Bull about her partner's sex life. This... this won't end well.

"Well, he's certainly been around," Bull hums, sitting back down, taking one of those useless jewels Josephine left around for Jolie and entertaining himself with the sound it makes when it cackles together, the two emerald tears. "I've certainly caught him between women's legs more than once."

Jolie thinks of that morning and blushes at the thought, squirming on her seat.

"You've never had sex," Bull states and it's getting annoying that people know that fact about her so easily. "Right?" He adds as an afterthought, reading through her. Ben-Hassrath. Of course. 

"Yeah," she sighs. "I haven't ever even touched myself? That's what set Krem off."

"Yeah, he doesn't do that," Bull shrugs. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't like others."

Jolie bites her lower lip, knees knocking together. "Have, um, have you two...?"

"No!" Bull looks surprised, laughs about it loudly and Jolie doesn't know why she relaxes. "Krem would kick me in the face before letting me anywhere near him—at least in that matter."

"Oh," she tries not to sound relieved but the look Bull gives her lets her know she's done a bad job at it. "I just..."

"He's your partner, I get it," he chuckles, shaking his head. 

"Well, I just—I don't even know what to do," she blurts out, eyes fleeting through the documents on her desk. "He, um, he's—and I have  _no_ idea... how to... do... anything at all."

"You want me to give you advice," Bull says, sounding surprised, laughing when Jolie nods quickly.

On hindsight, she should've asked someone who might not embarrass her but alas, she sits there for about two hours as Bull goes on and on about the procedures and—it's pretty embarrassing. She's always found sex talk outrageous, perhaps because like it or not, she  _is_  a city elf, raised in Orlais as a slave and these things were spoken of very seldom and between mischievous giggles.

Nobody's been a parent to her, a teacher to her. Once, she thought she could have a parent but that was long ago. Ages ago. There's no one now.

Bull leaves after checking one last time to make sure she feels okay. She does now, a little bit more, but instead of hurt for herself she feels hurt for Krem. He probably didn't mean to leave her that way—he must've needed time to himself. Ae'wen does this as well.

She arranges a meeting before dinner time comes and it seems her advisors appreciate it very much. They talk about how they're trying to find the mayor of Crestwood and that the Winter Palace is ready for celebrations, that it'll be the perfect time to set up an assassination of Celine. She actually forgets about her troubles for the while they're there—then the meeting is over, dinner is upon them and a shy knock interrupts her talk with Leliana and Josephine.

Jolie turns to the door, sees Krem there. The good thing is that he isn't wearing his armor, which means he doesn't feel that bad about his body today. Yet the expression he wears on his face tells her that he probably feels awful about what happened.

"Hey," he whispers, rubbing the side of his neck as Josephine and Leliana smirk at each other. "You got some time for the biggest idiot on Thedas?"

"Yeah," she smiles softly, moving to him, grasping his hand and squeezing. "I always do."


End file.
